


Dreaming Awake

by Nightlock



Category: Max Payne - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightlock/pseuds/Nightlock
Summary: Two years into the Valkyr case Max is looking for a lead to avenge his loved ones but instead he finds a letter that opens the door to another nightmare all together. (Rated for language, violence and canon-typical themes.)





	Dreaming Awake

**Author's Note:**

> I hope whoever may see this will enjoy. I’ve been on a Max Payne kick lately and wanted to try writing him.

It was the deepest darkness, tacky and thick, clinging at me as though deprived, starving and unsated. It felt like being plunged into the wretched abyss of a never-ending playback of old memories that were stale, bitter and brutal like the aftertaste of a pill cocktail and an all-night binge. Everything spilled into a blur. I was raw and exposed, feeling it rip away at my skin, pulling back the curtain. I couldn’t hide it. Not anymore. Everything had built up to this point and boiled over foamy and sickly like gurgling bile.

I was surrounded by a black vortex of my own failures and fears, stewing rancid, while swallowing me whole. I was being devoured alive, drowning in the nightmares-each writhing and cracking into shapes of grotesque creatures and ghouls. Despite it all I couldn’t wake up. Not yet. Not without Michelle and my daughter-my family, and whatever sanity I’d have left after. My goal had been carved down into a singular point that twitched and morphed into something hideous and unnerving. The truth was blinding. It was then I was able to open my eyes. 

It sounded like nonsense. I would call it all bullshit myself if I hadn’t seen it. Lived it. Even now there was a stuttering lag to comprehend it all and I couldn’t decide if I was really awake or not. I’d have to piece it all together, one broken shard at a time. 

It started a year ago, already two years deep in the Valkyr case; a gradual crawl to avenging my loved ones. It was a marathon of chasing dead-end leads; inebriated being so close to the end of the maze only to hit a wall. I was out at sea in a canoe without an ore. The storm started to brew. 

**New York, Present Day**

“Relax, Max. You got this.” Alex, my best friend and only contact I had while undercover. He kept me grounded during my own personal vendetta; the badge’s code long behind me. My focus was clear as the law blurred; messy and unfocused like ink in water. “Just try not to be _too_ charming.” Alex was a real comedy man. I didn’t laugh but I could feel my lips tug into whatever could resemble a smile. I had forgotten what it felt like from time to time but he was a reminder at times. 

“Easier said than done. You have the easy part.” If by easy I meant gathering intel, nightly stake outs, making connections and keeping my ass in the safe zone through it all, then yeah, his work was easy. As easy as pulling teeth. Alex elbowed at my arm with a crooked smirk. Of the two he was the personality or, so I’ve been told. It wasn’t hard to believe. Hard to be the life of the party when you felt dead inside. 

We stood in front of Lupino’s worn down hotel while the rain sprayed every which way-umbrella in Alex’s hand doing little work to keep us dry-while going over what to expect inside. From what we gathered it was some mafia initiation bullshit or something like that. The building towered over us like a giant and we were all out of stones. In the back of my mind, I knew I wasn’t nervous over this-just a bunch of goons playing tea party over drugs and money-but I could taste the atmosphere and it was thick enough to make you gag; slippery and strange that made breathing a chore. 

Rain was falling heavy and fast as though heaven itself tried to wash the filth of New York clean; rid the streets of its demons, shadows, and filth. Drops were loud, demanding and meshed in with the bustling noise of mid-day city bustle; canceling each other out. It was all like white noise. The blaring sign above the hotel’s entrance burned a deep red and blurred into the droplets of rain. It was a haunting display that looked like a portal from hell had opened and the eyes were leering through at us. Correction, they were leering at me. Alex was just back up for if anything went wrong. It was hypnotic like the devil in your ear. Whispers sweet like candy-hunger urging you to eat in mouthfuls only to realize it was laced with poison after the pain kicked in. 

“Just don’t mention your work history and you’ll do fine. Pull some of that bullshit you do when we’re playing cards. If you can muster up that magic, Max, you’ll fool the world.” A true wingman hyping me up like a crowd before the main performance. It was a high not yet condensed into pills or booze even if the foundation was the purest form of best friend bullshit. Alex hadn’t beaten me at a game of poker since I’ve known him. It said one of two things: he was right, and the world could sit in Poker Payne’s hands or Alex was just shitty at poker. For our sakes, I’m betting my money on the former. Should we bet on the losing hand we’ll lose more than a few chips at a table. 

“And remember to smile.” Alex was all jokes today, taking his hand free from umbrella duty to draw and invisible smile over his lips. He was teaching me all over again. Joke’s on him, I was a fast learner. 

“Right, like looking straight into the camera before the flash.” With a nod, I went inside leaving Alex behind in the unforgiving cascade of rainfall. He knew the signal if this was anything more or less than a meet-and-greet. 

Within the entrance I was given a break from the rain, soggy like I hadn’t had an umbrella at all. I was a fish jumping out of a lake and into a river. Like gargoyles perched above watching for any unworthy to devour, stood two tacky-suited thugs with grins that were all teeth and no restraint like hyenas over scraps. 

“Ah, not so fast, Payne. What’s ya business?” Joey Finito stood from his perch to get in my way. Of the Finitos he was the one bound to taste a bullet first thanks to his habit of talking more than necessary. The same could be said for the other brother, Virgillo, who was nothing more than an echo chamber for Joey’s dangerous foolishness. 

“Yeah! You ain’t no hot shot bustin’ in here like that. ‘Specially today.” I was bombarded with the inflated bravados of the brothers and I played it the same as always since the start. 

“I was called to meet the boss. Or did the word not get around?” The brothers folded, playing dumb but their grins pulled ear-to-ear and cut sharp, laughing at a joke untold. 

“Right, right,” hands were raised and Virgillio stepped back, “Up ahead in the lobby.” 

“And don’t play nothin’ stupid, Payne. We handle stupid.” 

“Very well, ain’t that right, Joe?” 

“Yeah, Virg.” Joey patted at his pocket in confidence. I wasn’t intimidated or impressed. The light’s stuttered and for a second, like shadows of an after image, I saw that gun raised aimed at me, my cover blown. As quickly as it appeared it vanished. It was nothing more than what I expected to happen than what did. That’s what I told myself. The Finitos were none the wiser lost in their own back and forth blows to their ego like sharing a balloon. 

With the show over, ignoring any more cackling commentary the brothers could muster, I made my way to lobby. A tired place with years of dark stains and darker history. The air was contaminated with the smell of mold, layers of dust and filth and dirty carpet even when there was none. At the heart of the hotel was Jack Lupino himself with his right-hand man, Vinny Gognitti, talking over details of something kept secret from the world. I approached and time felt like it stopped-putting me in the dingy spotlight. The wolf smiled, face tattoo curving at the pull. 

“New meat, I look forward to your work.” Lupino greeted with a familiarity that was slimy like a spoiled oyster. He was nothing special, but he had what it took to invoke fear in the goons he controlled. Lupino is a barrel of a man, his eyes glinted something sinister and tattoo branding the left side of his face like a battle scar. Almost supernatural, his aura green like acid, burning at my eyes. 

“We’ve got business to handle and I want you on the job,” It wasn’t a request but a demand. Ends to a means, “but only after you’ve proven you can handle it.” Less of a test of skill but of loyalty. Lupino didn’t seem like the kind of man to concern himself with much more. Drones who’d throw their life for his cause were more valuable than the competent that could take such power from under him. I was that man, but I’d fit the role of fool until unnecessary. Until my own job was done. 

“Sounds easy enough.” Lupino wasn’t off put by the confidence. He presented himself like a king on a thrown but laughing like the joker. Gognitti was Lupino’s shadow gawking like he was a fish gasping laid out to dry at its last moment. He was just sticks in a suit sweating at the mere prospect of what had occurred, balmy and brittle. 

"You...you sure about this, boss? This guy, somethin's. . .not right about him. Somethin's not freakin' right." Gognitti was as subtle as the cheap laminated sign outside and just as tacky with his cheap suit and shades, the bravado of an anxiety ridden addict. My fingers itched for my beretta and it stirred in reply, hidden in my coat. I was ready for whatever may come of this. 

Lupino howled laughter that caught everyone off guard, myself included; behind the mask of a poker face master my nerves rattled. 

"Vinny," Lupino tsked and puckered his lips with mock endearment making the tattoo slither on his face, "Little Vivi, I didn’t ask.” For a moment a slick smile morphed into a creature of hate and Lupino gripped at Gognitto’s face with one hand. The room felt empty for that moment, singling out Lupino's rage. 

“B-b-boss…! I didn’t mean- I-I-I don’t-!” Lupino’s grip was unforgiving like a boa squeezing the life from its prey as Gognitti scrapped sweating palms and dull fingers against Lupino’s steel hold to pull away-shades lazy and drunk falling crooked of his face-but Lupino didn’t budge. Neither did any good. The goons unfortunate enough to be in earshot folded in fear. I went from spotlight to background prop. 

Lupino's eyes gleamed with something cold, dangerous and acrid. In the dim, old lights in the room it almost made them looked reptilian. A playful prank from the darkness. I wasn't amused but I also didn’t move a hair to get involved. We happened to be on the same side of the coin but for different matters. Wasn’t going to blow my cover for another sleaze in the sea of many-like pouring water into the ocean. There were no heroes here, just the beast in a den full of drones with nothing but self-preservation at the forefront. I was starting the feel the filth of the hotel, an observer that matched into the crowd of many. It was the best way to be, for now, even if it wasn’t my way. 

Time felt frozen and as anti-climactic as they come Lupino let go and Gognitti fell to the floor heavy and bothered; grabbing at his jaw to help rub away the tension and pain as he babbled nonsense, drunk on fear. Lupino towered over Gognitti casting a darkness not even found in the deepest corners of this rat hole. 

"Unless you'd prefer to serve a different purpose. A better job for a big mouth. Ragna Rock calls." Lupino's smile was sharp with warning like a predator ready for blood. He was a beast that went for the jugular first time, no nonsense. Gognitti scrambled back on his feet and as animated as ever acted out his disagreement with shaking his head and waving his arms like a lunatic with shades practically hanging off his face. 

"No, no, no! B-boss, please, I’m sorry. . .! I won’t, it’s fine. Whatever you want. I just-I was jus’ thinkin’-" Lupino was killing Gognitti with his eyes and suddenly he was cut off by sucking his lips in; animated and foolish like a cartoon. 

"Like I said, he'll do fine." He meant me like I was called for a role in a stage play. I didn't like it, but it was as close as I could get to the only lead we had. While Gognitti scrambled to compose himself Lupino turned to me next face still twisted and cruel. 

Something happened and my head started to ache, a pin pecking into my brain. Squinting my eyes in discomfort, I scrubbed my hand over my face to play it cool. As I stared at Lupino the room was filled with loud silence. White light nearly blinded me, the pain rushing loud in my ear. I was suddenly ambushed by distorted, eerie howls and wails. The fray of my vision turned black and crept to the center like fire eating away paper. What vision was left I was seeing double-two Lupino’s stood before me though the after image was laughing speaking occult babble recited straight out of a horror movie from my nightmares. He was brandishing a gun in a chapel; the sickening sweetness of incenses and death practically burning at my throat, choking me. I could see the eye of the barrel; I was the target. Manic laughter mixed with the ghoulish noises were a duet of horrors as I tried to regain focus. Felt like my brain was split down the middle, a glaring crack where deadly creatures burrowed in. I was lightheaded and as quickly as it happened it faded back like turning back the clock; eruption halted. I was back in the moment, Lupino still staring me down as though nothing happened. He seemed as unaware as I was dazed and confused. The light above use flickered hauntingly; between flashes a manic green figure was laughing manically behind my ears. 

I kept my cool, at least best I could, cold sweat crawling down my brow. All eyes were on me and suddenly my hands were hungry for the weight of my gun. It was quiet until another barrel of laughter. The green specter faded and its phantom laughter with it. Only Lupino’s paraded my ears. My brain was feeling too big for my head. My thoughts were rushing like torrents and bleeding out of my ears before they could properly form. I’d go through the ordeal of questioning the madness but in the lion’s den you focus on not getting killed by the beast foremost. I didn’t know what I silently conveyed through that hellish ordeal, if it happened at all, but it was funny as hell to Lupino. The laughter hadn’t died out and echoed around me from the peanut gallery of thugs. When Lupino composed himself the laugh track cut. It was a relief in a way that pricked at your insides. 

"So serious, I like that. We need more like that. Like you, Max, right?” It was the first time he used my name, and I didn’t like it, “Maybe this _will_ be easy for you. That said, dust mining will be a breeze." In few words I was assigned to drug smuggling. Part of the initiation, bullshit as means to test loyalty and all that because it hardly took skill for such a task. I was given the whole spiel before. Even so, the thought hadn't made it easier. I was in for the long haul and had my own role to play. A sheep in wolf's clothing, badge disguised as a plate of fool's gold. With a Cheshire smile that reached ear to ear Lupino grabbed my shoulder with a practiced hand, the gripe like a viper’s strike tasting to kill. 

"Play your part well, _Max_." Lupino’s voice was like a sickly venom that burned through my ears, my name sounding distorted like broken audio struggling to be heard. I could feel something slither under my skin reaching for the brain while kissing my nerves with a snake's tongue. I could feel my face twist in discomfort and the grip tightened before letting go. Lupino strutted out and the goons scattered from the spectacle like roaches scattering from light. 

Gognitti emptied out like a broken crouching kitten with a limp disappearing into the bellows of the faded, dank hotel. Not before twisting a sneer my way like a bad order clung under his nose. I returned the favor and Gognitti slinked away muttering low but clear, "Freakin' prick." Words he had the guts to say just not directly in my face. 

The show was over and when the big wigs split the rest did too. Everyone went back to their own business; I did the same. On my way out the Finito brothers, with no more tact than the last time, greeted me with instructions of where to go for the dust mining deal, ignoring their feigned ignorance from before. Cop gone dealer; the story wrote itself. There was no turning back. It felt like that starting line to a marathon of bad decisions, but I was getting close. Too close to bail out. 

\----- 

Our rendezvous point, The North Bar, was where I met Alex later. Downing a couple of beers, I told him what happened with exception to the weird visions. I wasn’t even sure that was real. Maybe just a second-hand Valkyr high from one of the many junkies that plagued the hotel’s holes, bathroom stalls and abandoned rooms. If that was possible. I didn’t know and chose not to think about it. 

I gave Alex details about the dust mining job and though I didn’t see Lupino since our meeting I was reassured by Gognitti, who was less enthused, that the next job would be happening in a week. Where to meet, what to do and emphasized not to be late with a boisterous attitude like a bully that went out of their way to choose a victim no where near his own size. Or so he thought. I’d endure because I was on the inside now which put me a step closer to where I wanted to be. Alex smiled something restrained and tight though he tried his best to play support. It was a victory with a price tag, we both knew it, and he seemed unsure if this was the right way. 

“It’s the only way.” I reminded him, scrunched brow and doey eyes behind glasses practically asking me otherwise. 

“I know.” Alex said but he wasn’t convinced. I wouldn’t push it. When on the other side of the law you use to uphold everything becomes a blur. Right and wrong; good and evil; too far and not far enough. It was all sides of the same coin and I’d play whatever side it took to get my revenge. I couldn’t blame Alex for the conflict, but I wasn’t backing down. 

We sat there in a forced silence listening to the patrons of the small bar have a good time and some too much of a good time. The TV was playing sports as loud as it could, glasses clinking, shoes tapping and people loud with laughter and nonsense. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the floor littered with sticky stains, nut shells, crumbs and other things. The North Bar was small with a traction of reoccurring patrons, nothing big or glamorous. New faces were rare but welcomed. It was the best place to meet naturally while not sticking out of the crowd. We fit right in. 

I stared at the sip of beer left in my glass without a thought of reassurance. Alex was contemplating his feelings about it. He was trying to be sure this was the right thing to do and the only way to do it. Being sure about this wasn’t anyone’s job. We just do what needs to be done or die trying. I couldn’t tell him it’d be fine. Couldn’t imagine a straight face for such a bold face lie. 

“We can. . .do this.” His voice shook with uncertainy and I couldn’t blame him. Reversing the chairs, I’d probably be the same way in my own way. Alex swigged the other half of his second beer. 

“It’s alright if you wanna leave, Alex. I won’t drag you down any further than you’re willing to go. You’ve done a lot already, I’m grateful.” It was the truth. Best back up a cop or friend I could ask for. I wasn’t going to take him kicking and screaming, then we’d both be dead. Or worse, get completely lost along the way; maybe no better than the crooks we used to cuff. Finishing my beer, I glanced over to see he looked frustrated like during poker when the final hand was about to be played. It was the part where Alex always knew he’d lose. It hit the same each time, nothing he ever got used to in all the days I’ve known him. 

“I want to help you, Max. We can do this. We can! I just-it’s a feeling.” I could see the creases in his forehead, brow furrowed deep. Alex scrubbed at his chin in thought, the bald of his head reflecting light. 

“A feeling?” I was curious. My mind was playing pranks with an eerie presence of something vile crawling in the creases of my brain. The meeting with Lupino was like a cruel deja vu that made my stomach churl. Nightmares breaking through into reality or I was sleep walking. Either way, I didn’t want to think about it, but it was already living in the back of my mind. The lights above us flickered with a buzzing noise. 

“Yeah. It just feels off. Like we’re walking into something bad and when we get there the doors will shut behind us then the trap sets off and there’s nowhere to run. S-stupid, right? Just stress probably. This entire ordeal is stress.” Alex tapped the counter for another round, but I wasn’t thirsty. I’d be lying if I told him he was imagining it. Stress didn’t begin to explain the shit I saw today but with Alex spooked I didn’t want to make it worse. I’d have to be my own confidant and tell him it’s fine even if it wasn’t. Even if I felt the same and we were close to a point where looking back would be death. It was selfish but I swallowed it all down with the beer. 

Before I could say anything after pulling up from my tumbler glass Alex started again, “We got this, Max. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Real careful, this is serious shit. I’m good back up but I’m not a miracle worker.” Alex’s laugh was flaky and small. I wasn’t convinced by his humor, but I indulged in it. He’d be fine if I was fine even if I wasn’t fine either. A couple of fools playing chicken while our brains laughed up another idea to fuck with us. Maybe it was just stress. The thought was laughable if it wasn’t sad. I had another role on stage. 

“With the best back up it’s practically a success.” I picked up what was left of my beer and knocked it into his with a tap like a toast to that. To us staying alive. A toast to a far-off victory that felt just as close. Alex grinned something dopey and it was contagious even to the immune. 

\----- 

“Help me, Max! Please. . .! No, don’t-!” Michelle screamed behind the locked door. Thuds and rumbles vibrated through the wall and door indicating a struggle. A struggle I've familiarized myself with almost every night. 

Somewhere the baby was crying. 

Her cries were a haunting wail that morphed into something unhuman and metallic to my ears. The bedroom door was barricaded, like it always was, so I went around through the bathroom that led to the bedroom. Before I could step onto bathroom tile I noticed the walls stained with green blood with hand prints that were tiny like a child’s. Stains smeared and ugly. Michelle was crying and pleading for her life-the baby's life-and it was on repeat as a stood still, a skipping record. I was running in place unable to progress. The mirror in the bathroom cracked into shards of green light that fell like powdered tears. The faster I ran the farther the door to our bedroom pulled away. It was an endless hallway of horrors; shadowy appendages grabbing at my feet, ghost green powder flurrying in my eyes. She screamed something that echoed deep in my soul then there was a gunshot. A carpet of red flowed from under the door, blood. 

Somewhere Michelle was crying. 

A second gun shot. The bloody trail flowed thicker and was harder to walk in. There was silence. Right before I could reach the door I was pulled under, drowning in the river of blood. 

\----- 

I awoke to the mocking chime of my phone, drenched in a cold sweat. I tempered my breathing and realized I was awake. In my apartment, I sighed something deep that made my bones clatter noise like old pipes. Right, after meeting Alex I came straight home to sleep. Didn’t bother to undress, just needed to close my eyes even though I knew nightmares hid behind the lids. 

I was in a home away from home. ‘A small hole where dreams went to die’ or so the landlord chided while presenting the place; his hand out for first month, last month and security in the same breath. My wings melted-it was a steep fall from the American Dream to the rock bottom sewer spewing gutters of New York, but it was enough for a cop working undercover. Everything in small strides. It fit the bill of a low time chump looking for a job into the big leagues of the mafia. Horrifying humble and completely bleak. 

Time felt irrelevant as I came to, not sure how long I'd been awake, lost in the own depths of my mind while the nightmares faded. The old clock hanging on the wall, probably older than the grim staining the place, read 4:07. In the am or so the rained stained window tattled; nothing but the darkness of the night and faded streetlights filtering weakly through the bedroom window. Scrubbing my hand down my face I braced myself. I answered the phone, still bellowing to be answered, head feeling stuffed and foggy with fatigue and drunken nightmare adrenaline. 

“What is it.” It wasn’t a question; it was the hour where even the dead slept. Or so I wished it were true. I knew firsthand it was a lie I wanted to believe. It was maybe at this hour the dead were the loudest. 

“Relax, Max.” It was Alex. I groaned pinching at the bridge of my nose, and he laughed hearing my eyes rolls over the phone. Alex knew I hated that, and he said it every time he called. It was an inside joke that became his calling card and it became our code over the phone that bled into other areas of our lives. I knew if he didn’t say it then it wasn’t him. It was a strange thought I tucked away, mind still numb and tight from sleep, or lack of. 

“Alex.” My relief was masked with haze of the hour. 

“You’re in.” It was cryptic and short. Clipped cold and lifeless, nothing like Alex at all. I could feel my stomach twist in knots. 

“In what, Alex? We talked about this at the bar.” Stupefied from my fatigue I didn't think why I humored it in the first place. The smart thing to do what've been to hang up and ask Alex next time I saw him. My hand gripped the receiver. 

There was an unnerving pause. Something in me ran cold like icy hands tickling clammy skin. Something was off. This wasn’t Alex. Not the Alex I knew. 

“. . .I-in.” Alex repeated to me, voice cackling like a static. I could feel the chill of goosebumps over my skin. A familiar, acute pain hit me dead center of the head. 

“M-max. . .Mmmmaaax. You're in. IN. Why. . .Why wouldn't you be. They're dead because of you. You. YOU.” The voice was unrecognizable, croaking and cracking, changing octave between syllables. Voice spoken through a fan of the underworld, it's voice was distorted and grimy. There was this skin crawling delay between words as though battling a tongue-hell possessed. Then I was blindsided by the distorted wailing chorus screaming through the phone, my ears ringing after dropping the receiver. The phone bled darkness through the holes and I could hear the ear shattering noise on the other side of the line drop dead. 

"What the hell-" I felt dazed and slow like time was two times faster than I could comprehend. It didn't feel real like an outer body experience, a ghost in my own head. The lamp's lightblub on the nightstand exploded and I was stuck in the darkness of the room. I was on autopilot using the faint streetlight from the window to navigate, grabbing my coat as I left out through the bedroom door; by the time I reached for the doorknob the telling sound of the streetlight exploding could be heard; the darkness following behind me. I was driven and pulled by fear that had been nestled inside-nurtured-until it came crawling up my chest ready to burst. 

The apartment was small, a hard left from my bedroom and a few hardy steps was all it took to get to the main entrance. The darkness in the room felt alive. Breathing around me and whispering horror with the ghosts of familiar voices. The past had caught up with me and was thirsty for my blood. I could hear scribbling, a pen dancing against paper. Valkyries disguised as angels came in and the dance stopped, scribbles evolving into deep scrapes-bleeding green against my brain. I was losing it.

At the front of the door I felt around, the doorknob a reward for my patience, I turned it. It was locked, a click that sent pure ice through my veins. I didn’t know how, after removing the security latches and using the key it didn’t budge. I started to ram the door with my weight and then the lights turned on. Everything was in place and undisturbed as though the world hadn't spiraled into chaos around me. Just like a bad dream gone upon waking up to the daylight everything in the room was as it was. If that at all was reassuring. I was back to reality. My own personal hell. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me.” No one answers and there’s relief. Below my feet there was a paper. My mind blank, I picked it up and identified it as regular envelope with a red wax seal on the back. The fear bubbled up strange and alien in my chest feeling; too small to contain it all. I had wondered if I should even bother opening it at all if I hadn’t already picked it up. It wasn't curiosity that fueled me but a need to open it as if I didn’t it’d be the worst mistake of my life; to be thrown in with the others. 

I broke the seal and it was like a point-blank shot in the face: 

**He’s dead.**

********

********

Out of context, the letter didn't mean a damn thing but in my head, as messed up as it was, it was as specific as naming the person outright. Alex. The room was suddenly pitch black again, plunged back into a living, breathing hell. I didn’t know where I was but I didn’t move. Then I saw it. It was like a beacon pointed out at sea-a small light. Nothing more than a fire fly’s worth. The darkness was strangling me. I was gasping for air as though drowning at the bottom of the sea, my lungs burning with a nestled ache in my chest. I was on the verge of something outside of myself then, like at the ending fray of a bad storm, I was calm. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I was stuck in my head trying to keep up. I got a hold of myself. I had to. This was shit to figure out later, the now was to get out of wherever I was. I could hear the lion growling in the vastness of the dark and I wouldn't sit around to guess if it was hungry. 

The fleck of light fell to my feet and a path of them lit up. By instinct, I followed with nothing but that light to guide me. Corny as hell, it was like living in a weird fairy tale of horrors. 

I could hear the echoes of my steps and there was rails and rubble. The lights scatter and then there was yellow light at the end of the tunnel I didn't know I was in. I rushed towards it to small musty air and earth. I submerged from it, a train tunnel, to be in. . .the subway? Climbing off the tracks I read the wall: Roscoe Street Station. The tension ceased. I could get out of here or wake up or whatever. 

Trying to figure my way, lost in the veins of New York, out I saw Alex. Of all people. I ran to him, separated by bars. The barred door was locked between us. 

“What the hell’s going on, Max?” I could feel my brows twist in confusion. Alex seemed none the wiser awaiting an answer. 

“I think you’re the one who needs to explain.” This all started when he called me. If the call was a really something that happened. If that was actually Alex. I was running like a computer a few years too old, struggling to load, unsure of anything. I could only be in the moment right now. Anything more or less wouldn't make sense. 

“Max, it doesn’t make sense.” We were on the same page for that at least. 

“What happened, Alex? Remember when you called me? What were you talking about? What happened?” I asked him with the belief what I experienced wasn't just hallucinations of melted wings. Like I believed it happened. I didn’t want to believe but I already slipped on the wrong side of the door. I needed answers. I felt desperate for them. 

“Relax, Max.” Alex started and suddenly the was a pain. I rubbed at my head and when I looked back to Alex there was an after image; shaking and transparent with prism edges as though light was cracking through glass. 

“Max?” The gun shot rang out behind my ears and then Alex fell. He was hot right in the head, droplets of blood and brain matter dressing the bars that separated us. He laid there in a pull of his own blood, dead, eyes accusing and unfocused staring up at me. It was quiet then I heard a yell that I registered as mine. I shook at the bars and the rattle was a bell that broke the illusion, the Alex before me was gone. All that remained way the horror before me. The barred door opened, and I pulled it back with a strength inhumane or so it sounded as it slammed into the wall, crumbled of tile heard. I kneeled by Alex to see the image was still transparent, but the fresh smell of death was real. I tried to touch the body but my hand went through but the blood was real. Warm and slippery and dressing the floor like spilled polish. I felt sick, stomach tumbling and thrashing. I help my mouth, not to control rising bile but to hold in the scream. It was at the the very edge and if I let it out I knew I wouldn't come back from it. Suddenly, something surfaced in the blood as though it was leagues deep. It came up pristine and clean, unphased by the liquid it was delivered in. My blood ran cold, icing over any courage I’d have to approach it. 

My throat was sticky and dry and swallowing nearly choked me. I balled my hand into a fist for a moment then released feeling the blood rush back into my fingers. It was a wake up call. "Snap out of it, Max!" A familiar voice called so close it felt there. I reached for the letter. The same as the last. I broke the seal and opened the letter. It was hauntingly familiar, the writing all pretty curves. 

_**Help me, Max. Please, help me. Help me. You can change it all. Gain back everything you lost. You can save us, help me.**_

There wasn't a signature but the message was clear. I could hear the deathly lullaby of a fallen cradle. Michelle whispering in my ear, her voice suppressed by distance. I took the letter in put it in my pocket, a keepsake. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I’d change whatever I needed to bring them back. That much was clear. A cruel play of my own mind or reality, it didn't matter. I braced myself. The world went dark again, and the light appeared before me. It lit a new path and I steeled myself. Whatever hell awaited me down the rabbit hole I’d be ready for it. No Payne, no gain. 

**Author's Note:**

> Alan Wake inspired using elements from that game in the Max Payne universe. I think. Idk, I wrote this one a whim. Not necessarily meant to be multichapter either. I really just wanted to channel some Max Payne on paper…err a document.
> 
> I really like the idea of Max maybe being able to change things but it'd be at a price. Or at least what a character would do if they thought they could change things. 
> 
> Sorry in advanced for any mistakes, I proofread many times, but I still manage to miss stuff. I write on my phone ;;;; Anyway, feel free to leave any thoughts or critique or whatever! I don’t mind and appreciate it a bunch. I take prompts on my writing tumblr (nightlockedin@tumblr).


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